STAY BEAUTIFUL
by sparkleflower
Summary: Stay beautiful. Stay uncorrupted. Deep in the alleyways of a city, a club exists that connects everyone's lives. BASED OFF OF THE 23rd BLEACH ENDING.


**Hey guys nice to see you again :)**

**STAY BEAUTIFUL**

Rukia sighed and pushed her dark, now dusty hair off to one side. Her bangs kept falling annoyingly into her small face. "I should probably get these cut."

She leaned back as far as she dared on her ladder and looked at her artistic expression so far. The wall she had emptied multiple spray paint cans onto belonged to a popular club and gambling den Rukia had passed by every day of her life. The front entrance was thick with smoke, the awning announcing the club's name- "Shinigami"- was torn and ripped in places, and the place looked seedy and faux-rich. Nevertheless, for reasons Rukia could never understand, it was the vibrantly beating heart of the run-down community.

She jumped down from the third rung of the ladder and straightened her threadbare white shirt- now splattered in paint- and a pair of tiny jean shorts clinging to her stick-like legs. She raised a thin arm, that looked as though it would snap under the weight of her latest spray can, to pull the shorts down a little.

A well-built boy wearing a varsity football letters jacket walked by with his friends, tossing a worn football in his hands, and Rukia immediately pictured him with bright orange hair instead of the blue-tinged cut he was sporting now. In her mind's eye, the boy was a little taller and slightly less muscular, dressed in jeans and a simple t-shirt, and had huge auburn eyes that were both kind and tough. Her ideal man.

What would happen, she wondered, if her ideal man had no color to his hair? For years, Rukia had modified her picture of this man. His face shape, his personality, even his eyes had been changed so many times Rukia could not even remember his original face. But she had never dared to imagine him without vibrant orange hair.

With a new idea, she hopped back up onto the ladder, climbed a few rungs, and snatched as many colors of spray paint as she could. Painting letters and tracing patterns, she concentrated on spraying neatly and covering every inch of space on the wall.

Rukia smiled as she stared at her handiwork. In huge mutlicolored letters, where the spray paint had bled and mixed, was one word. Devoid of color in meaning, yet so alive.

Bleach.  
_!_

Rangiku was already dressed, unknowing of the spray paint directly on the other side of the wall she was leaning against. Orihime was pinning and carefully curling her wild orange hair so that it fell sexily around her face. Their costumes were outrageous, as usual. Long sequined dresses, elbow length gloves, too much makeup unseen on the dark stage, and hair that, after styling, was twice as thick as Rangiku herself.

Whatever the manager wanted. He was was the one paying their salary, after all.

Scanning the area with her eyes, she found him. He was sitting in the corner of the room, surrounded by beautiful women who blushed and attended to his every need. Barragan was an older man, with hair graying at the edges, with a distinguished face and neat tux. He came every day, like every other patron. Even as the manager, he managed to slink into the background, fade into noise, as he sat with a drink and his women and watched the night slip by.

Her dress was a deep red, while Orihime's was a violent shade of purple. Both colors clashed with the orange of their hair. But the men in the club watching, Rangiku knew, would love them anyway. As they had for the past three years, since Rangiku had begun singing professionally. Show a bit of cleavage, sing beautifully, and anyone here could appreciate you.

The club was constantly moving. Even during the day, the lights were dim, expensive cigar smoke flooded and assaulted her senses, and grime caked the glasses and the walls.

Rangiku loved it. She breathed in the air, drank up the applause, and gave into the touches and caresses from the words of praise from the audience. Shinigami was where she had gotten her start as a singer. It was her home, her safe haven, and she knew Orihime felt the same way, especially after what had happened to her. The place was addictive.

_!_

Why her three best friends were already here drinking so early in the afternoon, Tia had no idea. Tia knew she mixed a mean drink, but still. She brushed away her short blond hair- recently cut like a boy's- and blinked her green eyes quickly. Those two girls were performing on stage again, and Tia had always thought they were quite good. Apparently, so did the audience. Their angelic voices and loud appreciation for the club had won them many supporters.

Sun Sun, an asian beauty with a fabulous sense of style (Tia looked down in strange appreciation at her own sexy male bartender's uniform), threw her glass back down on the bar as a sign she wanted another drink. Sighing in defeat, Tia grabbed the vodka from the shelf and gave Sun Sun a quick shot.

Two women in the club had already hit on Tia by this time of day, and Tia knew as night came it would only get worse. Especially with her new haircut, Tia looked, simply, like an incredibly attractive male. Why she had cut her hair so short, she did not know.

Yet she loved the way she felt, wearing a male uniform and sporting her short hair. She was free in this club from stereotypes and traditional female roles. She didn't have to act coy or sexy or promiscuous, how men here expected women to act. Instead, she could just be a normal person, not show off her cleavage if she didn't feel like it, and make drinks for the rowdy guests.

Her friends didn't just love her for being sexy, dominating, and sly. They loved her for reasons she couldn't discover. After all, they came here every night to stay with her as she gave alcohol to old men and their young women.

Or maybe her friends just came for the free drinks.

_!_

"C'mon, Uryu. One more shot. You'd better get it this time."

Uryu wasn't even paying attention. His eyes were focused on the girl onstage, as they were every minute she performed. Her orange hair bounced and glowed even in the dim light. Her low-cut purple dress mixed with her wafting perfume gave her the air of someone refined, someone who didn't belong performing in a seedy spot like this. When she and the other redhead girl finished their song and broke into an intermission, Uryu finally turned his concentration back towards the pool table.

He snapped the thin strings of his trendy suspenders for luck before he put his eye down to the table slightly above his stick. He could see the ball he wanted to hit, taunting him daringly. With a quick, fluid jabbing motion, Uryu brought back the stick and hit the balls on the felt of the table. The purple ball and the green sank into the corners of the table. Perfect shot.

His thin glasses had slipped a little over his face, and Uryu adjusted them slightly before lining up the next shot. _Ready, aim, fire. _

That purple ball he had just hit was the same shade as that singer girl's dress today.  
_!_

"STARKKKK! DEAL THE GODDAMN CARDS ALREADY!"

His partner's annoyingly loud, high-pitched voice echoed off the dingy walls and shot through his ears. Stark groaned. Could he not have even one moment of peace and quiet?

A man to his right, who had already thrown in a few thousand dollars into the pile, added another wad of cash. "Yeah, Stark. Listen to the girl. We ain't got all day."

He was rewarded with a slight slap to the face from the spitfire girl sitting on Stark's other side. She gleamed in the dark, her dyed green hair edgy, her face flawless and angular, and her voice sharp. Lilynette was the same as the rest of them- a rich lowlife, who hid herself behind the power and respect she had earned within the club for her skills. But she was a woman, and was so deathly, unearthly beautiful that nothing could hide her for very long. In their male-dominated world, she stood out like a very attractive sore thumb. A stream of cigarette smoke trailed around her full lips and edged downwards to her male collared shirt and plaid shorts. "Are you kidding? 'We ain't got all day?' You'll be here all night until Stark and I say you can leave, got it?"

Dragging the cigarette away from her mouth, she tossed her own cards in and motioned to Stark to deal her and the man currently adding in more money in agreement another round.

Stark hated having to deal with his partner. She was a pain up his dick and was too stubborn for her own good. But she was his best friend and the fucking best gambler he had ever met. So in their profession, it was generally okay to keep her around.

They were the famous pair. Unstoppable, wealthy from their winnings at the club, and cunning. People every night tried their luck at winning even a hand of cards. Very few ever succeeded, and Stark could reward himself and Lilynette each night with a drink and a taxi back to their apartment in a different, more expensive section of town.

The bastard sitting across from the now was too confident, like he thought he could actually win. Too bad for him. He'd be leaving tonight with a very empty wallet.  
_!_

The sky was darkening. It was that odd time of day where both the moon and the sun were clearly visible in the sky. Ulquiorra chuckled at the irony of it all. Opposites, coming together.

His trench coat stood out, as did his odd brimmed hat. But Ulquiorra, by definition, was nothing if not different. He paced up and down the alleyway, outside of that club where the lowlifes like him went for fun. Shinigami, was it? There might be someone in there willing to hide him for a few days until he had gotten his fake passport and could escape the country.

_Why hadn't he planned in advance like he normally did? Why did his strategic methods fly down the drain?_ Now, he actually ran the risk of being caught and sent to jail. His crime had been too obvious, too noticeable. Scolding himself, Ulquiorra shook his head. He should have realized that his actions were to be found out eventually.

_!_

Shuhei shouted across the room at Kira, who was frantically filing papers and searching for an email that had rather important bits of information about their boss Aizen's latest case developments in it. "Kira, I've got 3 calls on hold right now and one of them wants to speak with you!"

Komamura, the huge, burly guy who worked in the desk right next to Shuhei, picked up the phone and answered the first of the calls. Hanataro was dashing about the cubicles, flying through bits of paper, as he snatched up his phone to handle the second call.

Even though it was almost night, the office was still in chaos. As usual.  
Shuhei loosened his tie slightly and shook his dark hair. Putting his fingertips underneath his collar, he yanked his shirt out a little further from his chest and grazed his pacing heartbeat.

_Still so much work to get done before I can go home_. Home, the mid-sized apartment in the crappy section of the city where gunshots rang out and drunk men wandered late at night. However awful the neighborhood, revolving around a gambling den and its profits, was, Aizen had paid for the apartment and the inside was quite nice.

He took a quick swig of water from the bottle on his desk before turning his headset back on and rebooting his computer. He already had more calls coming in and more emails flooding his desktop. With a small 'ding', a phone call came in from his boss over the headphones.

"We've found him. He's in an alleyway near your apartment. We're surrounding him and have our guns cocked. Put it in the records."

An incredibly descriptive message, in an instance where time was precious. Exactly like how Aizen always acted. Shuhei found the file on the Ulquiorra Cifer case and added a note that Mr. Cifer was most likely dealt with by now.

Peering through the file, scanning information he had seen thousands of times over by now since they first started investigating Ulquiorra Cifer, Shuhei reread the same crimes and lists he himself had written up. Murderer of several policemen. Murderer of three women. Accounted for robbery of Karakura Treasury. Stalking and rape of a young woman working at the Shinigami club.

What was so sad was the reason the firm was searching so hard for Ulquiorra Cifer. After Cifer murdered so many policeman on that dreadful night, every firm in the city was chasing him. Shuhei, however, was slightly disappointed. Aizen had said nothing about tracking the man for raping that woman- girl- who sang at the club near Shuhei's apartment. In his eyes, the girl didn't matter. Her name was not even included in the files.

The man was dead by now. He must be. Aizen, Gin, and Tousen had been trailing him with guns in their hands. He would never hurt that girl again.

_Or_, Shuhei added cynically to himself, _kill another policeman. _

_!_

Hiyori ran. Next to her, her younger sister Nel giggled as if they were playing a game, as they ran from a fat, mustachioed man with a rolling pin in his hand. Hiyori almost laughed to herself. It was a little funny, or at least it would be until they got clocked over the head for stealing those groceries.

The food had just looked so good and, hearing her sisters' stomachs grumble, green-haired Mashiro had taken some food off the shelves and guiltily placed it into her bag. The next thing the three knew, they were running as fast as possible from the man who would take away the food if he got to them.

Hearing Nel's stomach moan again with hunger, Mashiro grabbed her hands and dragged her faster to get away. Hiyori, as she sprinted down a narrow alleyway after her sisters, hoped the bag holding the food wouldn't rip.

Hiyori still couldn't believe that her goody-goody, goofy older sister had actually stolen something. She had always been determined to work for their food and not be considered criminals in a world where everyone else stole to survive. Before this yeat, Mashiro would never have even stolen a crumb from a mouse.

A by with bright red hair bumped into her arm as he whizzed by down the narrow alley on his skateboard, followed closely by two other high school boys. Hiyori screamed in frustration as her run was broken and the bag tumbled out of her grasp. A few pieces of fruit and a loaf of bread hit the ground before the boy caught the rest of the items.

"Sorry 'bout that!" he said with a knowing smile, finally seeing the man waddling up the alley after the girls. "Want me to distract him as an apology?"

Hiyori nodded, dumbfounded. Mashiro yelled at her to get off the ground and hurry up, goddamnit, the man was running after them, until they all heard a crash and saw the man lying on the ground as the strange red-headed boy apologized profusely for crashing into him.

Nel pulled the other two deeper into the alleyways and they slipped away back into the recesses of the dark, unbeknownst to the man now yelling at the skateboard boy.

_So_, Hiyori thought, _there are some nice people out there after all._

_!_

"So, there are some nice people out there after all."

Unohana looked up from her book as a young girl began to re-plait her hair into its customary front braid. With a kind smile, Unohana held up her hand in a polite refusal, preferring her hair to be at least a little messy and free.

Rose, a servant, flamboyantly entered the room, as he always did. With a flourish and a toss of his hair, he exclaimed, "Miss Unohana, dinner is almost ready. Would you like tea with your meal?"

"That would be fantastic, thanks Rose."

She resumed staring out the window into the damp alleyway beyond. Three people had come running through the maze of dark passageways that no young girls should know their way around, and had been helped by a kind boy who deliberately ran into their pursuer. It was almost like a scene from one of her books.

She placed her bookmark in at page 41 and left it on her chair, beside an empty teacup. Venturing down the stairs towards the kitchen, her spirits lifted as she heard the clinking of glasses, the excited chatter saved for the end of the week, and smelled the delicious chicken roast the cook had painstakingly prepared. The servants were already eating when she turned the last corner at the simple, large wooden table, and she was pleased when none of them stood up at her arrival. She had trained them well.

Shinji, the lead servant, sat at the head of the table, passing a dish of steamed vegetables to Kensei, the buff security guard of the house. Lisa, in a simple white maid's uniform, laughed daintily at a joke told by Love. Hachigen kept unloading more and more delicious, piping hot food on the table. Rose pushed his squash around his plate like a child and loudly asked for more chicken.

Her crisp blue pinafore dress and the bow in her hair were stark contrasts to the cheap clothing of the servants, yet Unohana never felt more at home than when she was with them, eating dinner. They all used the same silverware, all had their napkins on their laps, and all ate the same main course, lovingly cooked by Hachigen.

She was calm and naive, and all she knew was that she loved her servants and her brothers with equal measure. Taking a quick sip of her tea, perfectly brewed, she added a sip of milk and let that feeling bubble up inside of her- the one the came only when she was truly so happy she felt her heart would burst.

_!_

Kyoraku and Ukitake exited the house, their dates hanging onto their arms. Nanao, Kyoraku's steady girlfriend, was reaching for his hand, while Ukitake's nameless date clung to him a little too tightly.

Ukitake, the older brother, turned to Kyoraku. "Retsu's eating with the servants again tonight. I promised her that the three of us would talk when we got home. What time are you and Nanao going to be back?"

Ukitake's date whined. "Why are we still in this crappy neighborhood? You know there's a gambling den literally right across the street?"

Ignoring her, the other three continued walking. Nanao shrugged. "I definitely don't mind coming back a little early if it's for Retsu. You guys have been away so much lately; I'm sure she's been really lonely."

They were walking through a narrow, dimly lit alley, that smelled strongly of spray paint and smoke. The Shinigami club was on the other side of the wall. Through the thin plaster, Ukitake could slightly hear the strains of a violin and a high, clear voice singing popular melodies.

"Are you still looking for a new house?" Nanao continued.

Shrugging slightly, Kyoraku sighed. "We want to get Retsu out of this neighborhood, but she's incredibly stubborn and refuses to move. I mean, you know Retsu. For some reason, she likes being able to look out her window into this alleyway."

Ukitake ran his fingers over the wall. "Would you look at this. This graffiti's new."

Barely illuminated by the lights of the buildings on the alley, a dim picture with colors that would be vibrant during the day vibrated with wall of the club.

Squinting his eyes in the darkness, Kyoraku could discern that the picture was really just one huge word, sprayed in paint and emotion.

Bleach.  
_!_

**Wow. I just spent four hours writing this. It was fun!**

**A note: I'm sorry if the last part is slightly confusing. Retsu is Unohana's first name. I made her younger than she is in the anime- more like a teenager. Kyoraku and Ukitake are her older brothers. **

**As I mentioned at the beginning, this story was inspired by the 23rd bleach ending, Stay Beautiful. I have loved the way the characters are portrayed in an AU fashion in the video for a long time, and finally decided to make up my own story behind it!**

**The link to the video is up in my profile, so if you haven't watched the ending, I highly recommend it. **

**Thanks for reading, and please review! **


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